Emily lay on her back in the dark, staring at the faint outline of the ceiling. The whispers from earlier in the café wouldn't leave her mind. Shipment. Problem. Someone's talking.
Her roommates were already asleep, their soft breathing filling the room. Emily turned onto her side, clasping her hands under her cheek.
"Lord," she whispered, "order my steps. Don't let me wander into trouble I can't handle. Keep me far from danger, even if I'm too blind to see it. And… if there's a reason You've placed him in my way, make it clear. Because right now, I don't understand."
Her chest rose and fell slowly. The prayer brought some comfort, but her mind refused to let go of Ethan's unreadable eyes and the faint smirk that didn't quite match the tension in his body.
---
Miles away, in the industrial part of the city, Ethan stepped out of his Maserati and into the stale air of a half-lit warehouse. The concrete floor smelled faintly of oil and dust.
Three men waited by a metal table. On it sat a small black briefcase.
"Shipment was delayed," one of them said, his accent sharp. "We've got eyes on someone who might have been talking to the wrong people."
Ethan's jaw tightened. He didn't sit — just stood there, the hum of the old ceiling fan filling the silence between them.
"I told you," he said finally, "my involvement stays clean while I'm here. You handle everything."
The shortest of the three leaned forward. "It's not that simple. If word spreads, your name—"
"My name," Ethan cut in, "doesn't get dragged into anything. You fix it. Quietly."
The man holding the briefcase slid it across the table. "Payment for the last job. Consider it incentive."
Ethan glanced at it, then looked away. "Keep it. You'll need the funds to fix your mess."
His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, stepping away from the table.
"I thought I was supposed to finish college quietly," he said into the receiver, his tone flat but dangerous.
The voice on the other end began to respond, but Ethan interrupted. "No. I don't want your excuses. Get it handled before it touches me again."
He hung up, sliding the phone into his pocket. For a moment, he stayed still, the shadowed corners of the warehouse pressing in.
College was supposed to be his cover — a clean slate while he eased into control from a distance. But lately, distance felt like a luxury he was quickly losing. And now, with the memory of a girl clutching a white rosary and praying under her breath…
He wasn't sure if he was dragging her into his world, or if fate had decided to throw them both into it headfirst.
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